Tequila. My sister could not be trusted around it, and neither could I. Water. I needed to get water and then maybe think about opening both eyes at the same time.
The promotional shoot for the US Open, that was the appointment. A long, repetitive day of shooting headshots that would be turned into giant posters and video clips they could use in animated titles. It was actually one of the few commercial projects I enjoyed. They always had a plan, no talking required, just follow instructions and enjoy the company of other pros and a loaded craft-services table. Pretty sweet day, if you weren’t dying from a hangover.
I risked a look in the mirror. Ouch. Somewhere just north of “alive,” but only just. I swear that never happened in my twenties. One benefit of being fit and having a good metabolism was that alcohol never used to do much damage on the way through. Since I’d turned thirty, some cosmic switch had flipped, and I paid in full for every drink the next day.
Alice came staggering in at that point, clutching two glasses of water.
“Wow, you look rough.”
“Thanks, Alice. It’s your fault, remember?” I took the water and chugged it down with increasing relief. Oh hydration, I would never overlook you again. “You want to tag along for promo shots today? I think it’s at NBC.”
“Burbank? No thanks,” Alice scoffed in response. “Come on, let’s try and get you looking human. The studio can do the rest.”
Chapter Eight
When I was shown to the soundstage, Celeste was almost dressed and ready. She looked great in her black and vibrant pink runner’s-vest-and-shorts combo. After the strictness of Wimbledon, we were all looking forward to running through the other options for colour and fit. She had even toned the streaks of colour through her locs to be the same shade of pink. Celeste looked completely put together and ready to kick my ass in the name of revenge any time I liked.
I had changed into my own T-shirt-and-skirt outfit of navy and white with touches of gold. With one of my favoured white racquets in hand, I moved to join my colleagues who had gathered around the buffet of food and drink like a plague of well-paid locusts.
With the flurry of greetings and the lunge for a much-needed coffee, I wasn’t really paying that much attention. Having my racquet tucked under my arm gave me a wider turning circle, and I managed to whack someone on the arm as I moved.
“Sorry, I… Toni?”
“Hola.”
“I didn’t know you were—I mean—”
She patted me on the arm, having snagged a coffee for herself already. “You didn’t know the low ranks were allowed in? It’s okay, me either. But Mexico is a big market, and Mexican-Americans… They want me on the promo shots. I think someone called in a favour, but hey. Free trip to LA, right? It’s pretty nice on this coast.”
“It’s good to see you.” I hoped the hair and make-up girls had worked their magic, because I didn’t need to look as hellish as I had on waking up. “And sooner than expected.”
“Like a bad penny, I just keep turning up. You didn’t even know my name two weeks ago.”
“Well, I did, somewhere in this brain of mine. How are you?”
“Good. Bit of a scare with my knee the other day, but all good. How about you?”
Celeste was watching us from where she was holding court—which I swear was no pun intended, ever—with most of the other top seeds.
“Well, my parents are getting divorced, my sister got me wasted, and this coffee is the only thing between me and sleeping standing up.”
That stopped Toni in her tracks for a moment. She looked unfairly gorgeous, done up for the shoot as well, but especially comfortable in the peach-coloured dress, fitted to perfection with the collar popped.
“You’ve been…busy since Wimbledon, then?”
“I had some time in Sweden; now I’m home and doing this stuff. Weirdly, this is one of the quiet times in the year for me. I used to play everything going, now I’m pacing myself between London and New York.”
“That was like me late last year, when I first came back. My specialist was so sure I was gonna throw my back every time I took a swing.”
We were interrupted by her coach, and as soon as I saw him, I recognised him. Short, stocky, and with an expression like thunder most of the time. “Toni, vamos.”
“I don’t think they’re ready for us yet,” I intervened. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
He had the sense not to completely dismiss me, although it looked like he wanted to. “Xavi,” he said, extending his hand for the briefest of handshakes. “A pleasure, Miss Larsson.”
Someone should have told his face it was a pleasure.
“I need to go get strapped up and taped up if we’re doing the whole ‘swing and jump and looking silly in front of the green screen’ deal,” Toni explained. “Usually I’d let it go, but they want some real action shots from us all, and there’s no way I’m risking an injury doing something this dumb.”
“See you out there,” I said.
The director finally emerged at the front of the staging area, clapping her hands to get our attention.
“Ladies, our job today is to get people really excited for September. So let’s get started! Is, uh—Can we start with Elin Larsson, please?”
I was almost disappointed. Going first meant I’d have no excuse to hang around and chat all day. I waved at the director and jogged across to start. Cameras began appearing everywhere, and all the players were ushered to different areas and backdrops.
I was careful not to look for Toni, in case it started any whispers. I told myself I wasn’t bothered when she ended up being shot right next to me.
Alice had
